Angry In Paris
by peppyrainbow
Summary: Mother is gone. And so is Christmas.


It was a devastating day for Adrien, that's for sure.

It was Christmas Eve, the day before one of his favorite holidays. He enjoyed spending time with his mother and father, making Christmas cookies, hanging the star on the tree, and writing his Christmas wishlist. It was truly a special time, a time for him to spend the holiday with the people he loved the most. But it was devastating because a key part in the magic of the holidays for him was gone: his mother. She passed away not too long before, and he couldn't bare to think about how and why. But all he could ever think about her disappearance. Her absence. Her picture hanging on the wall in their mansion.

Mrs. Agreste was never coming back.

At most, he could try to bare Christmas without her, but it just won't be the same. One less hand to help the family hang the ornaments on the tree in their large living room. One less baker helping make those cookies. And one less person to help him dream up all the presents he was going to receive the next day.

To add on to his misery, their father has been incredibly distant lately. He always has been since Adrien's mother's death, but this time he's doubled his distance. These days, the more the countdown to Christmas shortens, the more reserved he's become. Which is a complete disaster. Families should stop worrying about things and focus on the joyous celebration that was Christmas Day, but his father seemed to be doing the opposite.

And that's when it hit him: was he TRYING not to celebrate Christmas? Was he avoiding the holiday? Would he think that if he stayed away from his only son, that he would forget? That he wouldn't have to talk to him? That maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to celebrate Christmas together as a family?

Wait... Adrien thought. That's absurd. Why would his father do that to him? I mean, don't get him wrong, he hasn't been the greatest father in the world since his mother's death-but he couldn't just throw Christmas away. He can't!

So, Adrien ran down the stairs, as fast as his legs could carry him without tripping or getting in trouble (you can't run in the mansion, you might add skid marks to the perfectly shiny, marbled floor), and ran to the living room. And what he felt when he saw what was inside was the same as ripping his heart out and trampling all over it.

There was no Christmas tree.

"Okay," Adrien said to himself. "Maybe he hadn't put it up yet." Maybe he was in denial, who knows? But it's better than having to deal with the sad truth that his father basically hates him and wants nothing to do with him at all tommorow.

So he sucked it up, and headed on down to the kitchen next. But there was no smell of flour, icing and no jars of assorted sprinkles. In fact, as Adrien looked around, he realized that there wasn't even anyone in the kitchen.

"Oh no." Adrien could feel tears budging their way through his widened eyes. He felt his legs become weak, his knees buckle. He felt to the ground, giving in to his melancholy, and started to cry.

The tears just kept flowing, like a waterfall of sadness. He was right: he never cared about him. He never wanted to spend Christmas with him. All he ever did was-

"Adrien." A cold and familiar voice echoed behind him, startling the blond boy. He turned around and was surprised to see his father standing there, a look of genuine concern that crossed his face. It was rare, yet comforting, but it didn't answer all the questions that were floating in his mind.

"Oh, f-f-father. I d-didn't see you there." Adrien managed.

Mr. Agreste sighed, and Adrien could tell exactly what he was thinking. That he was an improper person for bursting into tears over a silly holiday. "Adrien, are you alright?"

No, he wanted to say. And it's all your fault, all of it. But he held himself back and said, "Yes."

Mr. Agreste nodded.

The clock ticked to fill the silence. Tick, tock.

And soon, the tension became too thick and insufferable, and so he ran. Fast as his legs could carry him, up to his room. He ignored the shouting.

Quickly, he changed into Chat Noir, wiped his tears, and disappeared into the blizzard and ice of the cold, cruel world.

He was probably overreacting, but his father has always been distant. It was actually strange that today's the day that he'd stand up for himself. He left his phone at home too, so Mr. Agreste couldn't contact him.

He should have known, but youth made him naive. And besides, he couldn't dwell on the matter any longer.

So, quietly, and with a little bravado, he began to sing.


End file.
